Will to Abide
by Chocobo Goddess
Summary: AC2, Leonardo/Ezio. Four years go by and nary a word about that night, but sometimes it takes a while to say important things. Ezio can't escape his nightmares except when...well. You probably know where I'm going with this.  Sequel to Will to Live.
1. Chiaroscuro

_Venezia, 1488_

_Another rare day for Venezia,_ thought Leonardo, _where the smell is bearable._ Or perhaps he had just gotten used to it after...what, seven? Eight years? Time was a funny thing. Sometimes it felt like he had only just arrived, seeing the city with the eyes of a newcomer.

There was no denying that visually, at least, Venezia was beautiful. Pale stone or stucco buildings with grey and pink and red roofs, vine-covered balconies, striped poles at which the gondoliers parked their sleek, bobbing watercraft-he loved all of it. He spent too many hours avoiding some deadline or other by strolling the city streets, enjoying the feel of white cobblestones beneath his feet. He adored the _ponti _that spanned the canals where one might not expect them, tucked away between buildings and connecting quiet alleys. No two were completely alike, which made each discovery a delight.

When he wanted to rest, there were shady plazas and fountains by which to sit. There were arches over the street where buildings were so close they connected. Though sometimes he missed the courtyard of his workshop in Firenze, he decided that the plaza just outside his door here in Venezia was lovely in its own way, if not as private. The angle of the buildings that surrounded it gave it an oddly intimate feel, as if his home was protected by the city itself.

The best thing about Venezia, he had long ago decided, was the people. Their fashions were different from Firenze's-lighter colors, lighter fabrics. Even when it wasn't time for Carnevale-one of the most fantastic aspects of the city in its own right-they tended to have a grace, a spring in their steps, a _gioia di vivere,_ one might say. The brightness of the city extended to its inhabitants. It was a good place to be an artist.

It was apparently not, however, a good place to be an assassin.

Where Leonardo felt like he fit in, Ezio complained that he stuck out. Which was a ridiculous thing for him to say, given that he spent much of his time either running around on rooftops and avoiding guards or blending in with the crowd on the street...and avoiding guards. But that was just a job; Ezio's complaint was that he felt he didn't belong here.

Something had taken hold of his young friend's heart, some sadness or disappointment that would not go away no matter how many conspirators he tracked down and killed. Leonardo shook his head at the thought. He could have warned Ezio about that long ago. But each man had to find his own path, didn't he? Nothing Leonardo could say would have altered Ezio's decision to take up the mantle of the Assassin. All he could do was to support Ezio as best he could.

Leonardo focused on the dappled shadows cast by a tree under which he now walked, if only to keep himself from musing further about that handsome Florentine. That handsome, _solidly off-limits_ Florentine. Dealing with his feelings about Ezio had become a familiar battle within himself, one where he was torn between their strong friendship and how fervently he still wished it would become something more. But Ezio was a lover of women. No amount of wishing would make things change.

Ezio still came to see him, at least. That much had remained thankfully the same. There were no references to that one night spent together, where Leonardo had shamefully broken down and Ezio had apologetically thrown him a bone and held him while he slept. Four years since then, and no words between them to acknowledge anything about that...what, lapse in judgement? And if so, whose? It didn't matter. Either way, it was as if that night had never happened, except that now when Ezio left after a visit, Leonardo would say, "Remember your promise," and Ezio would flash that cocky grin and reply, "Always, _amico mio_."

As if thought itself could conjure the assassin from the air, Leonardo heard Ezio's unmistakably Tuscan accent reply to an equally identifiable female voice. _Rosa,_ he thought. He could not help but eavesdrop a little, for they did not see him approach and he did not want to interrupt.

They were flirting. Leonardo considered whether or not he should simply turn right around and wander back the way he came before either of them realized he was there. He had no interest in hearing about Ezio's conquests, nor did he want to become the unwanted third party. But he had missed his friend dearly. It was rare to see Ezio out in broad daylight like just one of the crowd.

At a throaty chuckle from Rosa, Leonardo made up his mind. He turned away and began to walk toward the footbridge.

"Wait, Leonardo!" The call startled him. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Ezio waving him over. Rosa's expression was disappointment mixed with a measuring look in Ezio's direction. Ezio didn't seem to notice. "I thought you might come by this way."

So Ezio had been waiting for him? That was new. "Oh, Ezio! So glad to see you." He forced a note of gaiety into his words and hoped it fooled his friend. It seemed to, though now Rosa's shrewd gaze slid toward him instead. Leonardo had to drag his eyes away from hers before she could ask any awkward questions. To Ezio, he said as if nothing was wrong, "Did you need my help?"

"I wondered if I could talk to you about something." He shifted uncomfortably and his hand moved to a pouch at his belt. "In private."

_Ah, another Codex page. _Leonardo smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. He did not miss the odd flinch that caused; was Ezio injured? He carefully dropped his arm, thinking ahead already to what medical supplies he had at home. "Of course! Come, we'll talk in my workshop." He took two steps before he remembered that Rosa was still there. "Ah, that is, when you have the time. Please, don't let me interrupt."

Rosa merely studied him with hooded eyes. "Oh, no, I would not keep you from your...research," she said, and Leonardo could have sworn she _purred_. Despite her boyish clothes, she was all woman as she unfolded herself from the bench and stood to press herself against Ezio's side. Presumably, this was to kiss his cheek fondly, but when he stiffened at _her _touch as well, Leonardo was startled to see a kind of delighted fascination cross her sharp features. Something was definitely bothering Ezio, and Rosa knew it, too. Leonardo wondered what it could be.

She let Ezio go, then, and gave him a push in Leonardo's direction. "Go on, _ragazzi_. Have fun," she said, sashaying off in the opposite direction, laughing.

"What an interesting person," said Leonardo as she disappeared into the crowd. "I don't think I would want her angry at me." He grinned at Ezio. "She seems quite...predatory."

"You don't know the half of it, my friend." Ezio fell into step beside him as they walked. He was possessed of his usual grace, but there was an edge there that Leonardo did not often see.

They said nothing more for a while. Leonardo enjoyed the company, even if Ezio was a bit surlier than usual. After a few moments of this, however, Leonardo struck up a somewhat one-sided conversation in an effort to distract his friend from whatever was bothering him. He commented on the intricate stonework on a particular building, the untrained but heartfelt singing of a _gondoliere,_ the gorgeous weather.

Ezio remained tense at first, but by the time they reached the workshop, he had unwound enough to grin and even offer a reply or two. He still looked weary, but Leonardo was gratified to see the corners of Ezio's mouth curving upward. His stride loosened and became less clipped, and even the set of his shoulders changed.

He calmed further when they were inside and the door was shut behind them. Ezio took in a deep breath as if the smells of paint and wood were the most comforting things in the world to him. He moved into the center of the room, absently pulling his hood back as he stepped inside, and Leonardo could not look away from that beautiful, if haunted, profile.

Ezio crossed into the path of a sunbeam that lanced through one of the workshop's high windows. Dust motes hung suspended in the air, glowing bright as fireflies, and now Ezio stood amid them with his eyes closed. He tilted his head back as if to accept a kiss from the sun. The light found purchase in his hair and lashes where it limned the dark strands with fiery gold. His skin, it turned to the color of honey with deep black shadows wherever the shape of his face curved away. In this way, Leonardo could see a scar he had never noticed before, and the hollows under Ezio's eyes, and the line that had appeared between Ezio's brows somewhere along the way.

He looked like an angel, albeit one beset by earthly woes.

"_Bello,_" murmured Leonardo at the vision. Immediately he regretted it, for the spell was broken. Ezio, back to being mortal and no longer a heavenly messenger, looked at him, curious.

"Did you say something?" he asked. Leonardo waved a hand.

"It is nothing. So! What did you want to talk about? Is it another Codex page?" All things considered, Leonardo thought he had covered himself quite well. He didn't have to force the interest, either-he positively adored the challenge each page brought. They were so different from his usual work, a rare language to study and on top of that, each page had a unique puzzle to solve. Of course, each page also gave him an opportunity to talk with Ezio. But beyond that, he felt like it was one good, solid way in which he could help his friend.

So the little disappointment that he felt when Ezio shook his head was not feigned, though now he was mystified. If not the Codex, then what...?

"I need to ask you something, Leonardo," Ezio began, and now he looked terribly self-conscious. "I wondered if I could..." he paused, looked away, "...if I could stay here. For a few nights."

Leonardo raised a brow. "Well, naturally. You know you're always welcome."

"No, no!" Ezio shook his head vehemently this time. "That's not what I mean at all. _Porco mondo! _How to put this?" He began to pace, agitated, and Leonardo watched him struggle for a few moments. "I mean-"

It hit Leonardo then. He fixed Ezio with an incredulous glare. "You are _not _suggesting what I think you are suggesting."

Ezio looked uneasy, and Leonardo swore.


	2. Perspective

"Wait, I can explain-" Ezio began. "That came out wrong. What I mean to say is, I want to sleep. With you."

"You want to sleep with me."

"At night, yes."

Leonardo rarely got truly angry, but there were some things that never failed to crash unimpeded through his usual, cheerful facade. Of those things, the worst was when he felt like he was being taunted, humiliated. He had a hard time believing that Ezio would be so callous, so _uncivilized_ as to mock his feelings, but here was the great womanizer, standing before him, asking to _sleep _with him. Of all the stupid, arrogant, unfeeling-

"I think," he said, choosing every word very carefully, "that you have the wrong impression of me."

"Leonardo, no, I-"

Ezio might as well not have spoken. "One time, _one time_ I made a mistake and it cost me far too much. And you come in here and ask me as if it's something I do every day? As if I was...was...one of your _courtesans_-"

"But I-"

"Do you have any idea what you're asking of me? Even if none of _that _never happened, don't you think of how it must feel to be in love with someone who _doesn't love you back_, and then that person just blithely assumes that you'd be willing to sleep with them because honestly, that's what whores _do_-"

"Leonardo!" Ezio caught him by his shoulders. Leonardo almost pushed him away; he raised his hands in preparation to do so, but something in Ezio's eyes quelled his fury and left him suddenly empty. When Leonardo hesitated, Ezio let out a deep breath. "Leonardo," he said again, collecting his thoughts, "_mi dispiace molto, amico_. Forgive me, please. I'm so sorry. This is not what I intended. I never meant to imply anything."

Of course he hadn't. It was Leonardo's turn to look away. His face flamed in remorse. Where had all that come from? He thought he had been past all that pain, but apparently it still rankled. Poor Ezio had no idea, and in his ignorance, he'd tread on the tail of Leonardo's personal demon.

The other kept up a steady stream of apology, frantically backpedaling from the torrent of invective he'd inadvertently let loose. Leonardo hastened to stop him by putting his fingers to Ezio's lips.

"It's not your fault. You didn't know," he said gently, and Ezio's relief was strong enough to feel. This made Leonardo sink lower into guilt. How could he have thought that about Ezio, of all people?

Afraid of another outburst, Ezio took the chance to explain lest Leonardo shout at him again. The words spilled forth, unchecked. "I don't know what you meant by making a mistake in the past. I just-I have these dreams," he said brokenly. "I can't stop them. Every night, I see them. My father and my brothers, and Uberto, and the Pazzi, and..." He sagged forward, his fingers still gripping Leonardo's arms, and laid his forehead against his friend's shoulder. "I can't stop them, Leonardo. They don't let me sleep except..."

"Except when you're here."

"_Si_."

"Then why-" he didn't even need to finish the thought; Ezio knew exactly what he was asking.

"The only time I can remember sleeping through the night since my father died was when I stayed with you that time. You remember? It was several years ago."

"Four years and more," Leonardo said softly. Ezio looked up again at his tone, meeting his eyes through unruly bangs, then nodded. He seemed so lost, so defeated, that Leonardo could not bear it. Gently, he pried the other's hands away and covered them with his own. "_Idiota_," he murmured. "How long have you been meaning to ask me about this?"

"Months," Ezio replied miserably. "I couldn't live with it anymore. I'm so sorry, Leonardo, I would not ask this of you but I don't know what else to do. It was this, or take up drinking. I think I would not live long if I did that."

Leonardo heaved a sigh. "I can't believe I am even considering it." He waved away the hopeful look that vague promise garnered. "I have not said yes, not yet. But of course you may stay here, and you can have the bed. I will think about the rest."

"_Grazie_." Ezio had the grace to look contrite. "Also, I...I lied before. I do have a Codex page for you, if you still want to see it."

The laugh bubbled up before Leonardo could stop it. He was beginning to wonder about himself. How many emotions had he gone through in the past five minutes? "Ezio, there is very little that could make me feel better at the moment. But this helps immeasurably." He shook his head, bemused. "Give it here, then go make yourself comfortable. I'll be done soon."

* * *

By the time the page was complete, Ezio was predictably asleep in his favorite chair by the fire. Leonardo re-rolled the parchment and put it aside, then propped his head on one hand and watched the rise and fall of Ezio's chest for a while as he thought about the situation.

He had to admit that were he a less guarded man, less wary, he would have no qualms just going to bed with Ezio. Best to acknowledge that to himself right now before he tried to pretend otherwise. Ever since that night, he had _dreamed _about them sleeping together, waking up together, making love in the morning. It had been a silent obsession for a while, alleviated only by Ezio's departure on some errand to Monteriggioni some months afterward. Without the constant temptation in front of him, Leonardo had been able to regain his composure. But it had been a struggle.

Last time, their places had been switched. Leonardo had been the one asking and Ezio had been the one saying 'no'. But now? Lines were blurred. Because no, of course, Ezio was not asking him for sex. Ezio didn't even know about the trial, the accusations, and the terrible fallout afterward. Because while Leonardo was going through his version of Hell, Ezio had fled Firenze for Monteriggioni, a boy who was thrust into becoming the man of his family. Of course Ezio hadn't known, because Leonardo had never told him. By the time they had met again, it was no longer important.

God, but he wished he could take back what he'd said in anger.

On the other hand, Ezio must know what he was asking of the man who had confessed his love quite plainly. To sleep in the same bed, for comfort _only_, would be cruel to Leonardo. And Ezio hoped to make this a regular occurence?

But then again (Leonardo was running out of hands), how could he stand by when Ezio needed his help? It didn't have to be a complicated thing. Men shared beds all the time, without anyone thinking twice about it. Strangers at a roadside inn might have to share with each other, and brothers often slept together from childhood until one or both went off to be married. Couldn't he approach it from that perspective? In the name of helping Ezio rest for a change, which would only help him fulfill his vow to Leonardo?

Well, _merda. _ It always came back to that vow in the end. _Live and become an old man, Ezio._

If only things could be black or white. Leonardo felt like he knew just where he stood until some new angle appeared, and the shapes of his life no longer fit together in the way he thought they did.

_It is time for a glass of wine, _Leonardo thought. _And then I will wake Ezio, invite him to bed, and sleep next to him. For comfort. Nothing more. I can do this. It does not make me pathetic; it makes me a good friend who cares about someone who needs me._

_That is my story and I will stand by it._

He sighed, downing the last of his wine. This was a Very Bad Idea, and he knew quite clearly that he was running headfirst toward utter doom. The knowledge didn't stop him from doing it.

"Come on, _amico,_" he murmured, shaking Ezio awake. "Let's get you to bed."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much to Falxumbra for being a wonderful Beta on this chapter! 3_


	3. Gestalt

Getting Ezio into the bed was easy; the man was still drowsy from his nap by the fire. Unresisting, he let Leonardo lead him up the stairs, where he sat on the edge of the bed while Leonardo tugged the boots from his legs. Next were the belts, the spaulders, the cape, the bracers. All of these, Ezio shed willingly, a faint smile curving his lips. Leonardo tried to scowl at him, but in the end, he could not help but mirror the expression. The whole thing was so overwrought and ridiculous that he simply went with it.

"You're not making this easier," he said, and Ezio's smile widened into a grin.

"I am just sitting here," he teased, yawning. "You are the one who decided to help me undress."

Leonardo smacked him lightly on the arm. He tried not to think about how that shoulder was just as unyielding in only a chemise as it was in armor. Best not to think about Ezio's body at all, if possible. Which meant that he was all too aware of it, the curve of muscle and the hard, straight lines that led the eye along a pleasing path from head to chest to waist to hip, down along the leg, the knee, the foot. "Lie down," he said as if to a playful child, hoping that his tone would not betray the flutter of his pulse.

Ezio obeyed, flopping bonelessly back to the mattress. One of his hands landed outflung beside his head, the palm up and fingers curled as if beckoning. He watched Leonardo remove his own boots and raised a brow when the grey-green doublet joined them on the floor. His face was still sleepy, though something lurked beneath his faint smile.

"What do you find so amusing?" Leonardo demanded as he crawled onto the mattress clad only in his chemise and hose. "I wish you understood how difficult this is for me."

"Mmm," said Ezio. His eyes drooped closed. His other hand groped blindly for Leonardo's, found it, tugged. Leonardo tumbled, off-balance, the rest of the way into the bed. Ezio did not let go and instead rolled over, pulling Leonardo's hand with him. When he finally stopped moving, he lay on his right side, Leonardo tight against his back, his right hand intertwined with Leonardo's left.

"Ezio!" Leonardo protested. He tried to disengage, but already the other man's breathing had become shallow and even. Had he honestly fallen asleep so quickly? Leonardo sighed, gave up, and buried his face against his friend's broad back. He could only hope that the night would go quickly, that it might be over soon.

Or else that it might not ever end.

Sleep came more easily than Leonardo expected. He woke hours later, the candle long cold and the room dark except for the moonlight that streamed through the window. He spared a glance for the hearth, where the fire had died to mere coals. It would need to be built up soon.

However, it was unlikely that he'd get the chance. Ezio had turned again in his sleep, and now he lay with his head on Leonardo's shoulder. Their hands were still joined, loosely, resting together on Leonardo's chest, over his heart.

He sighed. His other arm was pinned beneath a warm body. Leonardo did not want to move except that his hand had fallen asleep. Very carefully, and with no little regret, he began to inch himself free.

Somehow, he succeeded. Liberating his other hand was harder; Ezio's fingers fit between his as comfortably as if they were his own. It was difficult to pull away from that easy clasp, and harder still to leave the shelter of the blankets that surrounded them both. Leonardo swung his legs to the floor, rose slowly so as not to disturb his sleeping friend, and went to the fireplace.

Thank goodness he had remembered to bring extra wood up to his room sooner. He would not have relished the prospect of crossing the cold, empty workshop in search of more fuel for the fire. Leonardo shoved the old ashes aside to clear the stone and set a few new logs into the grate. With the fire flaring back to life, the shadows in the room softened and took on a reddish cast. Leonardo turned back to the bed, only to find his thoughts arrested for the second time that day.

Through the window, the cold moon edged the bed and its occupant in crisp, pale, blue-white light. It picked up strands of Ezio's hair as well and played across the plane of his cheek. On the lower angle of his jaw and the hard curve of his shoulder, however, the fire lent its warm, golden glow. The flickering light disguised the rise and fall of breathing and made motion difficult to detect. Because of this, a full minute went by before Leonardo realized that he was not the only one awake.

Amid the shadows of his face, Ezio's eyes glinted where they caught the unwavering light of the moon. His gaze was heavy, still sleepy, but steady. Leonardo could not move, could not look away.

Leonardo wondered how he must appear to Ezio, silhouetted against the fire. He hoped his own face was unreadable, for he wasn't sure he was ready to give voice to his thoughts quite yet. But the longer he stood there and the longer he waited, the more he felt like he needed to say something. He wanted to explain himself, explain why he had responded like that earlier, why he was just _so afraid all the time_.

In the end, he was saved from saying anything, for Ezio spoke first. "Leonardo," that low voice murmured, "you should see how beautiful you are."

The temptation to assign some other meaning to those words, some other intent, was overwhelming. But there was no mistake. Leonardo took an unconscious step forward; the shift in his position caused an answering shift of light in Ezio's eyes, from motionless white to endlessly moving amber.

No longer sleepy, those eyes smiled at him. Leonardo couldn't see Ezio's scarred lips curve in the shadows but he could see the shape of those eyes change, easy enough to read even in the dark.

Another step, and another, brought him back to the bed. A hand worked free of the blankets and reached up toward him. Leonardo took it, fingers lacing in with fingers. He let himself be drawn down without resistance until he knelt on the mattress, hands planted on either side of Ezio's head. "What-" he had to start over, for the first word came out dry, "Ah, what-"

"You stayed." A lazy smile was visible from this new, intimate vantage point. "It was a good idea to come to you. I always feel safe here."

Leonardo could not ignore the heat those words sent through him. "You are safe here, _amico_."

"I know." Ezio's gaze wandered over him, searching for something. "I think about it often. You are so different from anyone I know, Leonardo. Most men I meet, I think of them in terms of how I might fight them. But never you." The other hand now emerged to trace the line of his jaw, to trail over his lips. "Not because you are weak, but because I have nothing to fear from you."

It was at that moment that Leonardo knew he would have to kiss Ezio. There was no question; it simply would have to be done.

He held himself back, hovering over Ezio's supine form. Leonardo's breath ghosted over the dusky skin beneath him and stirred the very male scent of it, the warmth, the faint hint of perfume that still lingered from the earlier flirtation with Rosa. Ezio waited, eyes deep golden and burning, his body at once tense and nervous, though trusting...always trusting.

Their lips were so close-_so close_-and yet Leonardo still hesitated. Once he moved, this would be done, and they would have taken a step down a path they could never then leave behind. The decision could never be un-made.

But even as he had that thought, he knew it was too late. Nothing would make him pull away now, not when his prize was right there, willing, lying under him and just waiting for him to close that last sliver of space between them. Leonardo could not think of any man strong enough to resist such temptation.

Certainly, he was not.

And so he dipped his head, arms shaking with the effort of holding that position for so long, and let his lips brush against Ezio's. The whispery slide of dry, sensitive skin was sharp and sweet. He did it again, teasing, barely making contact. Ezio gasped hard as if he'd been struck, eyes first going wide, then falling closed. He lifted his own head from the pillow in order to find Leonardo's mouth with his, and though at first Leonardo tried his damnedest to keep control, he quickly relented and gave himself over to it all.

It was difficult to tell who parted their lips first, or whose tongue touched whose, but by then it didn't matter. Leonardo threaded his fingers into thick, dark hair and tilted the other man's face just _so_. A hoarse moan vibrated between them and once more, Leonardo wasn't sure whose it was. Ezio just tasted so very _good_.

Leonardo knew suddenly that he would always associate the earthy scent of the olives they'd eaten and the heady taste of deep red wine with this moment. In the part of his brain that still worked properly (for there was always one part he could not silence), he could envision himself years from now, reliving this first taste, this first kiss, the way Ezio's skin felt under his tongue, all over again.

He felt hands kneading his hips through the linen of his chemise. The sensation forced him to calm; even so, he shuddered with the effort of pulling away. Leonardo cupped Ezio's face with both of his hands, stilling all movement, and when he spoke, it was still close enough that his mouth brushed Ezio's.

"_Amore,_" he murmured, drawing out the word, as Ezio gave a deliciously broken gasp in response, "Oh, I want you. _Dio mio_ but I want you."

Ezio arched under him, tried to surge upward, but Leonardo held him down. This was too important to take lightly, though all he really wanted to do was to meet those hips full force.

"Then do it," Ezio entreated, "Leonardo. Augh, _Leonardo_.*"

He decided he loved the way Ezio said his name. Pausing only long enough to drag his tongue over those scarred lips, he replied, "I would in a heartbeat, believe me_._ But I have to be the only one." He fixed Ezio with a stern gaze. "The _only one_, Ezio."

"Anything you say-"

"No, Ezio. No women, either. Not while you're with me." He smiled fondly, sadly. "Please don't take this the wrong way. I love you, but I don't believe you."

His words finally sank in; first there was the expected indignation in Ezio's eyes, then self-conscious guilt. Ezio stared back at Leonardo, obviously wanting to protest, but in the end, he looked away in shame. "How do you always know my thoughts before I do?"

"Your heart is less complex than those Codex pages you bring to me, _caro._" Leonardo closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the broad chest beneath him. He hoped his voice did not waver too much when he said, "I just hope that one day you have a different answer for me."

"_Mi dispiace_." Ezio sighed, idly stroking Leonardo's arms through the chemise. "I feel like I am always making you sad. It's all so confusing. I never intend-"

"I know. It's all right." And on some level, it was. Even if it wasn't entirely. "And once again, I find myself in bed with you anyway." Leonardo smiled again. "Perhaps that is what gives me hope. You keep inching closer and closer to my desire. I am certain you will make up your mind eventually."

Ezio gripped Leonardo's shoulders and pushed him away just enough so they could look deep into each other's eyes with utter seriousness. "I will," he promised. Then, as if he just couldn't help himself, his attention flickered to Leonardo's mouth and back. He caught himself almost guiltily, like a child stealing sweets.

Leonardo had to laugh. He nuzzled Ezio's neck, nipped at the soft skin under Ezio's ear, and enjoyed the hiss of delight that garnered. "I fear," he said matter-of-factly into that ear, "that you are too much of a temptation to resist for long." He sank down to cage Ezio in his arms, his blond locks cascading forward to frame their faces. It cast striped shadows over Ezio's skin and played tricks with the light.

This time, when he lowered his head to kiss that full, warm mouth again, Ezio responded with hunger strong enough to make _him_gasp. Amid the heat and the taste and the overpowering desire that flared with each meeting of their lips, Leonardo knew he was in danger of losing himself completely. They should stop; they really should set some limits-rules of engagement, so to speak-before things got too far out of hand.

Then Ezio's fingers tangled into his hair, crept around the back of his neck, feather-light touches coaxing him closer, closer, _closer_.

In that moment, nothing else mattered enough for him to stop.

Leonardo supposed that setting the rules could wait until morning.

~fin~

_A/N: Thanks again to Falxumbra for talking me back from the ledge on this one. Why are you still reading my stuff? Go check hers out instead! ;)_


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